The grass is green and I have been after it about
three times a week. My lawn is what could be called ‘postal stamp’ in size. It
is by far the smallest lawn I have ever had to tend to. What makes the
‘cutting’ experience challenging is all of the added obstacles. My bride is an
avid flower gardener and yearly she adds more to the property. “You cut down my
hibiscus again! I even had a metal marker there to show you where it was.” When
this happens I duck my head in shame and try to move on with life. “I see that
you are also getting too close to the pachysandra. I have been working on that
bed for years and just now have it where I want it.” “Those vines will continue
out over the lawn and swallow the cabin, if I don’t trim them back from time to
time. I am sorry about the hibiscus but we have to come to a compromise on the
other.” My bride could see that my sorry face was saddened, having let her down
and consoled me; “Why don’t you get in the boat and go fishing? Before she
could turn away I was gone. Not only did I get out once but three times last week.
I was hoping to find some perch but had little success in finding any. One
evening I caught two that were not much bigger than my jig. The next day I
found a school but they too where all in the six inch range. After poking about
a bit I caught a small mouth bass from another spot. The area was loaded with
bass! Four of them followed the fish to the boat, gliding along the bottom. The
one on the hook was hefty female at about four pounds. The other smaller bass
chased her as soon as she went back into the river. It looked like the small
mouth were staging to spawn and selecting sites; they are back in good numbers.Today I got out on the river a bit after 9AM, to try
again. There were still no perch but it was a fine day to bob around in the
sun. I tried several locations around Carleton Island, just putting along and
watching the bottom for fish. I found bass in schools and a few lumbering pike
attached to the bottom, looking like logs. A ship passed me and trailed off
down river with a smoke stream in tow. I was surprised by the lack of wake from
the big steel hulled vessel. There were pleasure boats that went by leaving
bigger ones. Perhaps they have been slowed down to lessen shore erosion.
Up by Fort Haldimand the lilacs were in full
bloom, clinging to a rock ledge where they have been for many years. I wonder
who had planted them and if they were as old as the bygone fort. Were they from
the French or English soldiers as a reminder of home? The light purple flowers
grace the island in a long hedge row, as wild as the river herself. I dropped a
line with a rubber minnow; it was taken by a northern pike. The taunt line
began to peel off of the reel. This was a surprise; I was in shallow water and never
expected a pike to be there. This was a good test for my newest ultra light
rod.
My setup was intended for perch, with four pound test
on a four foot rod, not a 30” pike. The graphite rod bent and did a fine job
absorbing the dashing runs of the fish. I had it to the surface and was about
to take a photo when it took one more dive. The jig came loose from the fish’s
jaw and everything went slack. I watched the pike settle back down to the
bottom where it soon blended in with all of the green surroundings. One thing
is for sure from the experience; I will have a lot of fun this season with my
new rod and reel. All I need now is some perch to come back…
Back at my dock the wild columbine have been blooming.
I so admire them for their structure and colors. They are a unique flower that
has always reminded me of a jester’s hat. Each year they rebound and each year
I am always thrilled to see them. Somehow they are able to cling to very little
soil on the bank, which is quit steep. There have been times when the blooms have
been small and fragile. This year they are as full as I have ever seen a wild
variety get… just perfect. My bride and I have been working on flower beds
around the cabin. Each of has gone a bit overboard with our purchases. Who can
blame us after the winter that the river saw. There is nothing like brilliant
blooms to push away the memory of iced roads, broken trees and months of snow.
Driving to a greenhouse yesterday I mentioned that one
would never believe a winter ever happened. “Look how green it all is now, from
the grass to the tops of the trees. It is easy to forget the short winter that
we enjoyed.” A cold as February stare came my way; “What do you mean ‘we’
enjoyed? I remember you mopping around the cabin with nothing to do and
complaining about how stark the world looked. You even complained about having
too much ice to fish on!” When we got to the green house I scooped up a variety
of flowers, she grabbed some new hostas. Together we buried the long winter
under the splendid table that is spring turning into summer.
